


Seal the Deal

by grumpyhedgehogs



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Selkies, Some swearing like last time, little bit of making out not much sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 02:19:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14250942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumpyhedgehogs/pseuds/grumpyhedgehogs
Summary: Tahani is a selkie. Eleanor is not. It works out better than you'd think.





	Seal the Deal

**Author's Note:**

> Oh. My. God. This took so much longer than my last Tahani x Eleanor fic. This is based on that Tumblr post about a selkie becoming your spouse after you gave their fur coat back to them. I've been researching selkies for literal weeks. That being said, there's a few things in common in the mythos I found; selkie transform outside of their furs from seals into humans, the women are forced into marriage by fishermen usually, they sing, they comb their hair overlooking the sea. Some stuff was contentious; some selkies wanted to go on land for love, most didn't. Anyway, I hope it doesn't put anybody off that took some creative license with the selkie myth. I love Tahani and Eleanor and I just want to see them snuggly and happy, damn it.

She’s in a café, sipping café au lait and watching the waves. Tahani’s starting to miss the rush of water over her, the salt on her skin and the fur on her arms. She shivers violently for a second, eyes squeezing shut of their own accord, body cringing against an entirely imagined cold. She fumbles behind her for her coat, knocking it to the floor in the process. She’s usually not this clumsy; Mother taught her better, really.

She’s on her feet turning, face flushed because people must be staring good God, could she do anything without embarrassing herself-

There’s someone holding her coat.

Dread curdles like spoiled milk in her gut. She tries to swallow, can’t, tries to speak, can’t, tries to blink, can’t.

The woman holding her coat is spectacularly short, with a blonde bob and a sweet, if mischievous smile. She’s wearing a loud patterned polo shirt, jeans, and a cardigan. She doesn’t seem the type to ruin a person’s life just for a laugh, and yet she does. She’s still got hold of Tahani’s furs, after all.

“Oops!” the woman says, voice cheerful. “Looks like you dropped your coat, klutz.” She takes a step forward, the fur still securely between her fingers. Tahani feels tears prick the back of her eyes. “Better hang on to this next time, huh? This is some expensive stuff- if I weren’t such a nice person, I’d’ve stolen it! You gotta watch what you’re doin’ next time, beautiful.”

She holds the coat out. Tahani still doesn’t move, surprise and lingering fear shocking her muscles into stillness. The woman blinks, brow furrowing, and peers up at her. She has to look a long way up. “Hey, are you, like, okay, lady?”

The woman reaches around Tahani-Tahani flinches, then feels bad for flinching, irrationally scared that any sudden movement will set this woman running off- and slips the coat onto the back of Tahani’s seat again. She smooths down the fur where it has spiked under her fingers a bit, and steps away again, hands raised in supplication. Tahani loses her breath again, for an entirely different reason this time. This woman, this stranger, (this human) she can’t really have given it back?

“There, see? No harm, no foul. I wasn’t really gonna take it, okay?” The woman steps back again, looking over her shoulder. “Look, I gotta go, but like- feel better or whatever? Stop freaking out, I’m sure if you have enough money for that coat you can pay for dry cleaning.”

The woman takes one, two, three steps back, hands still raised, eyes darting between Tahani and the door and- leaves. Just like that.

Tahani swallows, gasping, clutching her seat, the fur wrinkling beneath the clenched hand. She stumbles and slumps back down. This time, she doesn’t care about the stares she could be getting. She doesn’t regain her breath for a good five minutes.

By God. She’s _married._

~

(Kamilah tells her not to go ashore. She doesn’t seem to get that that just makes Tahani more certain she is going to. Kamilah doesn’t know everything. Kamilah has never been ashore. Tahani will go ashore and then, just to piss Kamilah off, she’ll come back and tell everyone all about it. Tahani will know better, for once, than Kamilah.

Tahani is not Kamilah. It’s time she stopped trying to be; it only makes things harder when their parents inevitably turn her away. She may not be able to do everything as perfectly as Kamilah can on the first try, but by God, she can do this.)

~

Well, the first thing she really needs to do is get a ring. It can’t be anything cheap, oh no. She doesn’t want some terrible metal turning her wife’s skin green or anything awful like that, after all. Something tasteful, elegant-colorful, like the woman who had given her coat back.

(Tahani knows what she really should do is ask around for the woman’s name, address, phone number. Hell, smoke signals would be better than showing up unannounced with an engagement ring, but, really, she’s just so excited, can you blame her? She’s married!)

(Kamilah would tell her that what she should really, really do is get back in her furs. Return to the ocean, Tahani, with your tail between your legs, and tell everyone how your immaturity almost cost you your freedom.)

(Tahani really really really hates listening to Kamilah. So there.)

~

She’s not stalking, per se. She’s only looking for the blonde. Only looking very intensely, is all. It’s not every day that a human gives a selkie back their furs without asking for anything in return. This woman must be pretty generous or something.

Or something, it turns out, is right on the money. When Tahani knocks on the door three days later, ring in hand and her Devastatingly Gorgeous Smile #5 in place, there is little movement inside in response. She knocks again. Faintly, Tahani can hear a person inside groan loudly, a thump, and the volume of a reality television show being muted.

The door wrenches open. Beyond the peeling wood is the petite blonde-her wife. She’s wearing a thin tank top and spandex shorts. Her hair is a mess and she has no makeup on; her feet are bare and a little blue from the cold. Tahani feels her cheeks heat.

“Oh God,” the woman says. “Ugh. This had better be good.”

Tahani, who has developed an eloquent speech on life, the meaning of love, and overcoming differences in order to form a more perfect union of their two souls, blanches. She realizes too late that she’s standing there, ring box in hand, with her mouth gaping open. She shuts it.

Now she isn’t saying anything. _Damn it, Tahani, say something!_

The blonde is looking, if possible, more perturbed than she was the last time they met. She opens the door a little farther, and frowns. “You’re that rich chick from the coffee shop, right? Are you here to like, sue me for getting my dirty fingers on your stuff or something? Cause let me tell you, lady, it doesn’t matter how pretty you are, or how you have curves in all the right places or the fact that your skin looks like a mocha latte, or that I might be into you, I will beat your ass in court.”

Well. That was strangely reassuring, actually.

“Hello,” Tahani manages, voice like gravel. She clears her throat, shakes her head. She doesn’t fail to notice the woman track her hair when it falls over her shoulder. “This is for you.”

Tahani holds out the box, and commends herself for not trembling in anticipation _too_ much.

The woman stares blankly. Tahani helpfully opens the box.

“ _That_ is an engagement ring.”

“Well yes,” This time it is Tahani’s turn to stare uncomprehendingly. “I thought you’d like to represent our marriage in your culturally appropriate manner, too. Since we’re married.”

_“What.”_

~

Kamilah was always the better swimmer. She could do flips when Tahani was just learning to go in circles. She could jump from wave to wave when Tahani could only pirouette under the sea. She could swim faster than the nets the seamen sent out when Tahani was left behind, flustered and tearing at the fabric around her.

There were times when Tahani was sure Kamilah would have left her behind, trapped, if it hadn’t been for the looks she’d get if she returned home alone. Deep down, she knew her sister wasn’t that coldhearted, but it was hard to remember when Kamilah would give her that look, that expression that meant _why aren’t you like me, Tahani, why can’t you just do what you’re supposed to, why do you have to struggle to get things right? Just stop trying to be different._

Well. Tahani sure showed her, didn’t she? Kamilah might be the better swimmer, might get all the looks of adoration and the silky furs and their family’s respect, but Tahani will always be the one who walked on two legs first. She’ll be the better runner.

~

“This is crazy. You’re crazy. Oh my God, I can’t believe I had a sex dream about a crazy lady. Can’t believe I’m gonna have one again.”

“Well,” Tahani says, trying not to feel small, “you don’t have to.”

Miss Eleanor Shellstrop tosses her a withering glance. “No, I’m gonna. Have you seen yourself?”

“Thank you,” Tahani says, oddly touched. “But if you’re as attracted to me as I am to you, I really don’t see the issue.” She does. She doesn’t like it. Maybe if she ignores it for long enough, it’ll just go away and Tahani will get her way. She’s plenty good at that. In the meantime, she can take this slow, get her wife used to the idea of them. She’ll need to acclimate to selkie customs, Tahani knows. She’s sure she’ll have some of her own adjusting to do.

For a moment, her counterpart seems stuck processing. “You don’t see the problem with the fact that you think we’re married when you didn’t even know my name before today? Or that you seem to think you’re some kind of mermaid?”

Tahani frowns. “Don’t be ridiculous. Mermaids don’t exist.”

The laugh Eleanor lets out at that is brittle, high and hysterical. Tahani is worried, to say the least. “Are you quite alright?”

Eleanor backs away from her outstretched palm and Tahani tamps down on the frustration and indignation that flares in her throat. Eleanor doesn’t understand, yet, what her returning the furs means. She’s sacred and Tahani will have to take this slow if she wants this to work out.

And oh, how she wants.

“Look,” she starts, tone soothing. “I know it’s strange, but you gave me my furs back. In my culture, that is a proposal. By accepting the furs, I consented. I know there are- barriers, between us, but surely we can work on it.”

“We-We-,” Eleanor stutters. “I-I don’t even know you, you weird, freakishly tall siren lady! I want a divorce!”

“Yet. You don’t know me yet. My people are quite good at adapting though, and I’m sure we can learn how to love each other.” Tahani tilts her head. “What’s a divorce?”

“Oh my God, oh my God, holy shit.” Eleanor has her head in her hands, leaning on the table in the kitchen. “Oh God, you’re crazy. I have a crush on a crazy stranger. A crazy hot stranger who I’m apparently mystically married to. Holy fuck.”

“There, see?” Tahani is grasping at straws now. Eleanor seems to be shaking, her voice lilting unsteadily. She wants to reach out again, to sooth and calm, but she forces herself to stay sitting primly. “You’re already attracted to me; we can go from there. And according to selkie culture, we are a good match-any human who willingly gives furs back to a selkie is a viable and coveted mate. One that many would use everything in their considerable power to compete for. I’m very lucky to have you.” “

Alright, hot shot,” Eleanor’s voice is still two or three octaves above normal. When she looks up, her eyes are wild and her hair isn’t any better. Tahani suppresses a wince. “Show me what ya got. You say you’re, like, a seal spirit or whatever. Got any cool superpowers, then?”

Tahani smiles, opens her mouth, and sings.

~

Tahani hardly ever sang beneath the waves. Kamilah always had the better voice, anyway, but it wasn’t all about that. She found something grotesque, something vile about it all, the way the song, if it reached the ears of a human, drew them near and bound them to finding her kind. Why would she even want that? She never wanted to see or touch -or God forbid, marry- one of those men who would just as quickly gut her as kiss her.

But Kamilah had laughed her in face. “It’s not about that, silly. It’s about proving that you’re worth something. That you can be attractive to anyone you want.” She’d paused then, staring at Tahani’s slightly disgusted expression, and giggled again. “Never mind. You’d probably have to work on it, anyway.”

~

Well. Now she is here, proving herself to her wife. She’s ready to work on it.

When she’s done, Eleanor looks sleepy. She slumps against the back of the couch Tahani herself has been sitting on, having migrated during the song, drawn out of her harsh wooden chair at the table to the comfort of Tahani’s voice. Tahani had made sure the song had the perfect words, that they were about safety and belonging and warmth. She’d wrapped the words in a sense of longing and loneliness and hope, and even through the language barrier, she knew some part of Eleanor had understood. Had reached back, had let the song curl around her heart and pull her forward. And maybe Eleanor wasn’t close enough to her yet, sunk into the cushions with a forced two foot gap between them, but Tahani could feel her warmth still. It’s a start.

“That was like, magic and shit, wasn’t it? Like feel good drugs but words.”

“Hm. Yes, I suppose. It was a love song of my people. It has a- calming effect on humans. Our songs have many different purposes.”

“Huh.” Eleanor mumbles. Her eyes droop. “Well. Color me corrected. Nice pipes, seal lady.”

“Selkie,” Tahini corrects gently, resisting the urge to reach out and stroke her hair. She wonders what it would feel like between her fingers. She wonders what sleepy sounds Eleanor might make if Tahani kissed her now. She wonders what the skin of her neck tastes like.

Slow Tahani, you have to go slow. “You should sleep. We could talk in the morning?” Eleanor is already nodding into the cushions before Tahani finishes, and by the time Tahani stealthily leans forward and slips the ring onto her finger (left, third from the thumb, humans were so strange about these things), she’s asleep.

Tahani can wait. She’s waited this long, after all.

~

It’s not easy. She knew it wouldn’t be, and she knew her new wife would need an explanation, a demonstration, some time. She never knew a human could be this stubborn.

“Please,” Tahani says for the fifth time since Eleanor had realized she was wearing the ring, “please keep it on. I still have my furs from when you gave them back, I had to give you something too. It’s a symbol of our union.”

Eleanor’s cheeks are flushed, but whether that’s from embarrassment or something else, Tahani can’t quite tell. She thinks maybe it’s a little of both. “As much as being swept off my feet by a gorgeous princess has been one of my top ten fantasies since second grade, Tahani, I’m pretty sure I still haven’t agreed to this.”

Tahani nearly snarls at that, feels something inside recoil at the thought of losing this woman, this infuriating, relentlessly charming woman. Something has to be done, she has to do something, she has to find a way to keep her from leaving, from finding someone better, and there was always someone better that Tahani-

Something of her thought process must show in her face, because Eleanor stops pacing. “Whoa, calm down, Ariel. It’s-I mean, I guess it’s okay.” 

"What-really?” The dread in her stomach recedes.

Eleanor shrugs, still red as a tomato; she’s not meeting Tahani’s eyes. “I mean, like- maybe we don’t have to be married? Yet? We could just like, hang out and stuff. Like on- dates?” Tahani hasn’t heard her stumble over her speech this much before.

“Dates.” Tahani rolls the idea over in her head; she could convince her, show how worthy of being Eleanor’s wife she is. She could do this.

“Alright. But, the ring?”

“Dude, I can’t, like, wear it on my hand all the time. People are gonna be like ‘whoa that chick is married and has some side action?’ Cause you don’t have a ring or anything. And I’m not sure how cool with lesbians this place is, honestly. It’ll be chaos. It’ll be too much for ‘em, you know?”

Tahani tries not to pout.

“But I could, uh, wear it on a chain? Like under my shirt, so you know I have it?” Eleanor hurries out. Tahani mulls that over too, then smiles.

Eleanor sighs in relief. “Alright. Dating a silky lady. Cool.”

“Selkie.”

“Right, right, totally got it.”

~

The dates are nice. They go to movies, they take walks downtown. Eleanor makes fun of the vendors who care too much about their hipster image and complains about the price of organic foods because, honestly Tahani, if pesticides are good enough for the rest of us the vegans don’t have to be so stuck up about it. She tries to hide her excitement at the fact she buys Tahani her first corn dog ever behind a huff of indignation and a roll of her eyes. She fails the charade when she asks quickly if Tahani likes it and Tahani grins like a fool for the rest of the day. (She doesn’t like it, or the mustard, and she plans to never tell Eleanor.)

Eleanor likes to dine out, likes the fact that with Tahani’s supernatural status comes social status. She likes wine, too, a bit too much. She drinks, Tahani thinks wryly, like a fish. She eats a ton too. The sushi place ran out of salmon before Eleanor was finished. _They lived next to the sea._

At the end of their latest date one night, when they’re on the beach and Tahani can feel her toes sinking into the cold sand, Eleanor gets quiet. “Hey, Flounder?”

“Yes, my dear?” She reaches out, can’t stop herself from stroking long fingers over Eleanor’s hair. There’s salt in it.

Eleanor ducks her gaze. “You know I’m not, like, using you, right?”

Tahani leaves her fingers where they are, uses the other hand to tilt the blonde’s chin up. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s like, you told me about all those legends and stuff right?” Tahani nods. “And I remember what you said, that a bunch of your people ended up trapped with my people cause they stole their fur coats or whatever, and I- uh, I mean, I would never do that to you, really. I just, I need you to know that okay? That was some fucked up shit, man. And like, I know I’ve done shitty things before, used my dates to get stuff like food and junk out of them, but like, that’s not you, and I um, I _really_ need to make sure that you don’t think that I think that you’re something like an object or some shit and it was really not cool what I did to my other date mates in the past, I know, so-“

Tahani kisses her. She tastes of the sea, and mint, and home, a little. Tahani pulls back, slides her fingers further into the blonde hair. “I know, Eleanor. I know.”

Her stomach feels giddy, like she’s drunk too much sparkling champagne. Maybe Tahani can have this, can have Eleanor. She’s never had anything or anyone for herself before.

Eleanor, for her part, grins.

~

She wonders what her parents are doing, what they think happened to her now. She still has the furs in the back of Eleanor’s closet, warm and soft and ready. But she doesn’t think so much about the waves on her skin or her body cutting through the saltwater anymore.

She wonders if anyone out there even misses her. If anyone realizes she’s gone. She thinks maybe not.

“Hey T, where’d you go? Aren’t we gonna watch Fast and Furious 8: Even Faster and Furious-er?”

Well. Maybe these days, _someone_ would miss her if she were gone.

~ 

"You’ve gotta understand something about me, okay?”

Tahani startles from her quiet contemplation of the shades of Eleanor’s hair at the words. She was supposed to be watching some vile network television special with her beloved, but really, why do that when there was the much more interesting task of cataloging the colors in the hair pressed against her shoulder?

“What is it, darling?” She gets a kick out of Eleanor’s blush every time she calls her that. But Eleanor does not flush and sit up to punch her arm softly this time, nor does she respond with any of her own ridiculous pet names. “

I’m not- I don’t know how to deal with this, you know?” Eleanor doesn’t look up from the television, head still pressed to Tahani’s shoulder.

Neither makes any move. Tahani waits.

“It’s like-God this is so stupid. I’ve been on my own for a long time, right? And I’m used to it. I’m good at it, even. Like nothing phases me anymore, man, I’ve got this whole fending for myself thing on lock. And that whole looking out for number one thing doesn’t involve, like, people…”

Tahani waits some more. It seems like one of those times her human needs a minute to figure things out. She knows what that’s like.

“People caring, I guess.” Eleanor’s voice is fragile and small, and Tahani’s heart cracks. “And now, you do. And it’s weird. And I don’t know how to deal with it. So like, I might suck at this for a while.”

“You won’t,” Tahani murmurs. Her nose is pressed against the crown of Eleanor’s head. Her hair smells like coconuts. It’s soft on Tahani’s cheek. “And if you do, we’ll figure it out.”

There’s a long moment of stillness and then the tension leaves Eleanor’s frame. She settles a little closer than before. Her voice is even softer. “Okay. Sounds like a plan, Stan.”

Tahani doesn’t know who Stan is, but she figures she’ll let it slide

. ~

There’s something about seeing Eleanor in her furs. About the way they drape over her shoulders, how the hairs of the trim brush her sleeping cheeks. How they kind of swallow her up, short as she is, how her fingers curl unconsciously around their softness. Eleanor never agrees to wear her furs when she’s awake, never even asks and balks when Tahani offers the first time.

(“Nah, girlfriend, that’s too weird. Like I’m wearing your shed skin or something serial killer-y like that.”

“I’m not a snake, Eleanor.” “

And I’m not a serial killer, dude. Besides, isn’t me wearing them kinda like a sign of the oppression of your people, or something?”

“I do believe you’re overthinking this, darling.”

“Ha, first time anybody’s ever said that to me, let me tell ya.”)

She never agrees after that, doesn’t even like it to be brought up, really. When Tahani takes them out Eleanor leaves a respectful distance between herself and them. She only ever touches them to hand them back to Tahani, and Tahani knows Eleanor keeps a sharp eye on them whenever they go out. The legends hit Eleanor hard, Tahani can tell.

(“I never had to depend on anybody but myself. Never owed anybody anything. I’m not about to make you owe me something like your freedom. And like hell I’m gonna let anybody else take it away either. That’s just messed up, man.”)

But Tahani likes this, seeing Eleanor in her fur. She always makes sure Eleanor is fast asleep when she does it, folding Eleanor in her fur protectively. She likes seeing Eleanor safe and warm and _hers_. She likes the mornings when she wakes up with her wife against her chest, covered in her furs with Tahani’s own fingers tangled in the chain that holds her ring.

(Eleanor never says anything about it when she wakes up, sleepy-eyed and contented. Tahani beams and sings her back to sleep.)

~

Tahani never had friends or mates. She’d traveled with her parents and Kamilah, and that’s all she ever thought she’d need. That she had. That she wanted.

She has and needs and wants Eleanor now. Eleanor feels the same, she knows it. It’s there in every brush, every hug, every conversation, every kiss.

She has a life that is her own now. She can stop comparing herself to Kamilah, stop trying to make her parents proud when she knows deep deep down that it will never happen. She can stop pretending to be what she’s not.

She’s Eleanor’s. Eleanor is hers. Yin and yang.

That’s all she needs to be.

~ 

"Don’t you want to go back?” Tahani doesn’t jolt at the question, although it breaks the comfortable silence that has fallen over the pair. They’re out on the cliffs, sitting on a salt slicked stone overlooking the waves. The rush-rush-crash of the sea below will always be soothing to Tahani. Tahani sits behind Eleanor, legs to the side; she’s dragging her comb- the comb she’s used on her furs since she was a little one, the only thing her parents ever gave her that was her very own, her most precious gift- through Eleanor’s short bob, flicking the salt and water away.

“Back where, love?” She knows where. She keeps combing, pressing her front more firmly against the blonde when she feels her shivering. The gold of her ring’s chain resting against the back of Eleanor’s throat glints in the fading sunlight.

“Back home,” Eleanor turns her head but Tahani does not look up from her work. “You must feel homesick. Even if your sister was as much of a douche to you as you say she was.”

Tahani hums contentedly, finished with her task. She thinks she’ll never get over Eleanor’s hair. “Not really- not anymore.”

But the answer doesn’t seem to satisfy her beloved; Eleanor shifts agitatedly, and Tahani can see her fingers clenching and unclenching around the hems of her sleeves in her lap. “What is it, Eleanor?” Seeing her like this never fails to open a pit in Tahani’s stomach.

“It’s not me, right?” This time, it’s Eleanor who won’t turn to face Tahani. Tahani waits. It’s the best thing to do to get anything out of Eleanor. 

"You’re not- God. You know that just because I’m in love with you, you don’t have to stay, right?” Tahani’s heart stutters, stops, pounds in her eardrums. But she misses her window of opportunity, and Eleanor forges on, voice rising with every frantic word. “I’m not keeping you here, right? I’m not holding you hostage. I gave the furs back, so it’s okay, what we’re doing, right? And you know you can leave if you want, I won’t stop you if you want to leave.”

Tahani slips her arms around Eleanor’s waist, tightens her hold. Eleanor’s shivers are getting more violent, but her hands still find Tahani’s. Tahani nestles her head against Eleanor’s shoulder and tries to curl herself around her wife as much as possible, tries to curl into her, take up residence between her heart and the rest of the world and stay. “Oh, Eleanor, no.”

“I’m not holding you hostage,” Eleanor repeats, and her voice, though softer now, still breaks Tahani’s heart. “That’s not love.”

“You aren’t, you aren’t, you aren’t my love,” Tahani can’t seem to stop. “You’re not doing anything wrong, Eleanor, my dear, my wife, I love you too. You aren’t holding me hostage. This is me, this is my choice. _I_ chose to love you, not my furs.” Eleanor is silent now, but she’s still shaking and Tahani can’t stand it. “I love you, I _love_ you, I love _you_ , my darling, my dear, my human. Eleanor. I love you, please stop crying. Please. I love you Eleanor.”

She presses kisses into the skin of Eleanor’s neck desperately. She tries to push all the l _onginglonelyhadnooneuntilyouyou’remineneverleavingyou_ into Eleanor’s very skin, through it, to her heart. Eleanor tastes of salt and sadness and human and Tahani loves her so much. Eleanor is still crying.

“I’m not that person anymore. I’m not evil, I’m not bad, I wouldn’t hurt-“

“No no no my love, not you, you’d never I know you wouldn’t, _please stop crying-“_

But it isn’t helping and Tahani can’t stand this anymore. This is not supposed to happen. They’re supposed to be _happy._

When she first opens her mouth, her song warbles and flails through the air, harsh and dissonant. She picks up rhythm quickly though, and soon the tune trails over the crests of the waves, surrounds them both, smothers the anxiety in the air. She sings of being lost and being found, of finding and keeping and protecting, of two hearts as one and becoming better than one once was. She sings of differences and similarities, of surprises and fears and courage and the knowledge that comes with love.

She sings of Eleanor.

And Eleanor relaxes, sinking back into Tahani’s embrace. Tahani wraps all of herself, her body her furs her voice around this woman who loves Tahani enough to let Tahani go, and keeps her there, in her arms.

Eleanor might be willing to let her go, but Tahani isn’t.

The last notes spill from her lips and linger, ghostly, around them. Eleanor remains silent, and it’s as if the song hasn’t stopped yet.

“You’re my home now, Eleanor.” Tahani can’t raise her voice above a whisper. “Can’t you see? I would never leave you.”

Eleanor turns her head and presses sky soft lips to Tahani’s temple. “Thank you.”

~

Later, Tahani pushes the covers off the bed and slips her furs around Eleanor. For once, Eleanor does not protest, tired red eyes already closing. She only stirs enough to push closer to Tahani when she slips into bed beside Eleanor. Tahani slides a soft grip around her waist beneath the furs and settles her other hand on Eleanor’s breastbone, where her ring rests.

“’S pretty.” Eleanor fumbles blindly at her collar and pulls the chain free. “Never said thanks. Sucks. Sorry.”

“I didn’t do it for a thank you, Eleanor.” She murmurs, and picks up the ring between her fingers. Careful not to tug on the chain too hard, she examines her choice.

It’s not too large- she’d caught a good look at how slender her small wife’s hands were in the café. The silver band is the most intricate part of the ring, a Celtic knot twining around to form a heart on one side. It catches the light when the ring tilts, and Tahani knows once the ring is on, the heart will warm Eleanor’s skin.

On the other side the diamond is set. It’s blue and gleams in the low light of the bedside lamp. Again, not too large a rock, although Tahani can’t tell if that is owed to the balancing of the ring or the fact that blue diamonds are exceedingly rare these days. She’d had to look hard for this. But it had to be ocean blue.

She might not miss her old life, but she does value it. It led her here. To Eleanor.

Eleanor, whose fingers are cool and soft against hers. Tahani looks up into those warm eyes.

“I mean it, you know.” Eleanor murmurs, for once not awkward. “I love you, but if you need to go I am not keeping you here against your will. Cause that is not cool, fishsticks.”

“I love you too, my darling.” Tahani twists the chain -not too hard- to bring Eleanor closer. “And I mean it too. This is my choice and I’m not leaving you.”

When she kisses Eleanor it’s soft. She pushes into it with little heat; this is about comfort. Eleanor’s mouth is tender and welcoming against her own. Tahani’s hair tickles both their cheeks, and Eleanor’s other hand rests, light as a feather, on her cheek. Their hands are still tangled around the ring.

When Eleanor pulls away again, Tahani tilts her head, follows her lips, her chin, her throat. Eleanor huffs softly, happily.

“Marry me?” Tahani asks, Tahani pleads, Tahani prays.

~

The ring looks so much better on Eleanor’s finger.


End file.
